


Urges

by orphan_account



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Groping, M/M, Masturbation, Tagged as non con because of groping someone who is asleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 10:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17160494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lacroix seeks comfort from the one person who probably doesn't hate him.





	Urges

**Author's Note:**

> god i wish there was more gay bloodlines fics, esp with lacroix. guess if you want something ya gotta do it yourself
> 
> also im assuming the sheriff is a tzimisce based off his disciplines, and i dont think theres anything in the game to contradict that?? oh well this is dumb half assed smut from an old obscure game that probably appeals to about 3 people worldwide, who cares

He awoke to the sound of rain. It was not uncommon here, and when the storms rolled in he could watch the dying light on the ocean's horizon from behind thick and heavy clouds. Soon, he would have another night of herding cats within this fetid city, but for now he could simply lie down and be.  
The other thing that he awoke to was thick, strong arms around his torso, but that was also nothing new. When he'd acquired the Sheriff, he'd always wanted him close when he was sleeping and at his most vulnerable. At first, he'd slept upon the floor beside him, until once many years ago he'd invited him to sleep next to him. Of course he'd agreed. Oftentimes he'd curl up into him, bury himself within the other man, knowing that it would never be spoken of.  
Lacroix shifted and placed a hand upon his chest. The Sheriff had such rough skin. He wondered, had he altered it that way himself? A curious choice, but then again, the Tzimisce had chosen to make himself a monster. Lacroix had often wanted to ask why, but found the question always died in his throat. He rarely had conversational exchanges with the man.  
He brought a hand to his face, over his lips. Very full lips, he noted as usual. He'd probably been quite handsome once, and Lacroix thought he still was, albeit in a very unconventional way. The Sheriff rose much later than himself so he had plenty of time to trace over his cheekbones and lips once more. In front of him, his shirt buttons split to draw his eyes in, revealing some of his powerful, muscular chest and the dark hairs dusting it. It was funny; before his death, Lacroix had hated his own preference for men, shunning all forms of intimacy as a result. Then as a neonate, his sire had fucked him many, many times, and every time he'd thought of what a fool he'd been to not have done such things sooner. Now that he was older, with more responsibilities and an actual standing in kindred society, he'd told himself that he was above the urges of the living, but he knew that that was not true. He felt profoundly lonely... He missed his sire, sometimes.  
He pressed his lips to the cold, dead ones of his Sheriff without really thinking about it. Just to see what it felt like, he reasoned. The other man did not move. Cautiously, he did it again, closing his eyes so that he could almost believe that he was awake.  
No one would ever know what he did alone with him. So it wouldn't hurt to do just a little more.  
He unbuttoned his shirt completely, breathing quickening as he exposed those thick muscles entirely. He grabbed one pec and ran a hand down the trail of hair on his abs... He could just about see where the trail thickened and disappeared into his trousers. He felt himself growing hard as he wondered what his cock looked like... no one would know, he repeated to himself, softly unbuckling his belt and pushing his clothing aside.  
His gasped ever so slightly when he saw it, thick and long and resting on a full and heavy sack. He'd known he would be, being literally dead to the world right now, but he was still mildly disappointed to see that he was soft. He grasped him nonetheless, felt the heavy weight in his hand, kissed him again. At this point he was somewhere between off to the side and on top of him, one thick thigh sandwiched between his own. He found himself rubbing again his leg as he fondled him, small moans escaping, until he decided that he needed more. When he sunk down and tried to bring him into his mouth, despite his every effort the Sheriff would not harden in this state. His taste was intoxicating and the feeling of his head on his tongue was one that Lacroix enjoyed - but he simply could not fellate him like this.  
He opted instead to straddle him, pulling his clothes down to touch his hard cock to the beast's stomach. As his one hand rubbed up and down his cock, he brought his fingers to his mouth with the other, sucking them quickly and sloppily so that he could hurry them up, up and inside of him. He gasped and shuddered, biting his lip at the first penetration- oh, it had been so long, and it was always so very tight, since he'd died a repressed virgin. He was quick to add a second finger, feeling a stinging burn in his haste but even gaining enjoyment out of that.  
By the time he had three fingers in, Lacroix was resting one hand on his chest, moving somewhat awkwardly on top of him with hushed groans and gasps. His cock ached for attention, but he didn't want this to end, not yet. Being penetrated like this, bouncing on top of his Sheriff... he could almost feel that he was fucking him.  
What would he be like if he fucked him, he wondered. He was so very strong, he imagined he would fuck him powerfully and rhythmically, eager to please his master. Or perhaps he could be gentle; there was absolutely nothing gentle about the man, the monster, but given the opportunity and command, maybe he would be a good lover for him. Lacroix had no idea what the Sheriff truly felt towards him, he had no way of knowing, but some pathetic little humanity-drenched part of him wanted to believe that, even without the many layers of disciplines and blood bonding, he would care for him in some way, as much as he was capable of caring for anyone.  
The familiar feeling coiled in his gut, legs shaking as he brushed that bundle of nerves deep inside of him. He gave into his lust and fucked his hand at the same time as he fucked himself, louder moans escaping him. He wanted to bite the Tzimisce below him and take his blood into him as he came... but no. Even drunk on lust, he knew he could not deal with the consequences of such an act.  
When his orgasm hit, he cried out a name, a name he'd forced the man below him to forget long ago but that he still knew.  
His seed spilled over those powerful abdominals as his dead guts pulsated around his own fingers, still slowly fucking himself. He felt dazed, raw and sensitive, like he always had after his sire pulled out, like he always had after he'd shared a night of passion with some poor unsuspecting kine man all those years ago. He closed his eyes and basked in the nostalgic feeling for just a moment, before he would have to return to the reality where he was a Prince of a city he hated, surrounded by scum who wanted nothing more than to see him dead.  
He opened his eyes, and saw two red eyes open in return.  
The Sheriff recoiled quickly from him, eyes burning in shock and disgust - little of it showed on his face, of course, but Lacroix had learned to read the stoic creature very well by now. He was not as stupid as everyone thought, Lacroix knew that he could easily put together what had happened, and though he was his master and should never have to explain himself to him, he could not bring himself to meet his eyes.  
He saw him recover from his initial reaction. The Sheriff slowly moved back to lay obediently beneath him. He could still see it there in his eyes, that disgust, but he was offering himself and his body nonetheless. Such was his duty.  
Lacroix shook his head as he dismounted him, and when he spoke, his voice was harsh and clipped.  
"Get up. We're leaving in five minutes."  
He adjusted his hair and fixed his clothes... wiping away any remnants of what had occurred. A momentary lapse of judgement was not worth any more thought, it had been a simple distraction to stave off the beast if anything. He missed nothing of his old life, he was proud to hold his title, and he was not so pathetic that he needed affection or approval from his servants.  
The night was young, and there was much to do. He stepped outside soon enough, into the rain, his Sheriff following behind him as always.


End file.
